The World I Know
With it’s cobbled streets and winding pathways
Crooked corners and crannies sheltering crooks;
Old nannies walking with rebellious umbrellas
And an armful of Roald Dahl books;
Chimney sweeps smoked by men smoking
Getting warm to their heart’s content;
As they swept off the dregs, the dregs of society.
Their ashen brows told a story, hardship and mistrust
With Oliver the pickpocket,
picking posies from my pocket;
And a tissue a tissue,
as we all came tumbling down;
Mam had painted the windows black
And as we scurried to the shelter;
She gave her last hurrah!
Only to be blown away by a stray;
That was us living in London
A helter-skelter life.
So what made us so at peace
In this world of rotten peaches
Picked in the bud by preachers
And our teachers were missing;
The wave of the skinheads
The people of reggae and weed;
warped till only weeds remained
and in the place of peace
was a hateful speech,
drawing borders;
my neighbour my enemy.
Yet in my little world all was well;
Free from the sea men
And their treacherous seamen
That grew to become free men
Which corrupted the 7 seas;
And bought home prized treasure;
Their very own, fully mechanical
Working servant folk.
We sang the blues in the blues of the rain;
The dew of harvest, and as the tune moved
So did we, from the fields to the backstreets
Singing in the Cadillac upon the board of chess.
So far removed we were once one;
now our lies make us sit apart
And our harlequin masks
Cover our two-tone hearts;
Our black tongues cursing
“Paki”, “Nigger”, “Wetback”
“Jew”, “Cracker”
Every word a setback,
But why preach to the choir?
They’re deaf and dumb
So I preach to the fire;
The eternal flame of hope
So close to be extinguished
It’s last flames but just embers;
And this world is full of vultures
There isn’t a phoenix here;
So no revival or rebirth;
When I die….
Just tax my bones till they become lax
And take what’s mine…till they break;
And when nothing is left
Lay upon my grave a wreath;
“He was a gracious and generous man”
-God.